Crimson's Cutie Mark

Crimson grew up with Gorat telling her he’d always find her if she turned him in, that her family would suffer, and other devilry. For the longest time she believed him, but she had reached an age where his words held less weight. She realized that despite what he told her, despite what his ego told him, he was fallible.

It occurred to her she could turn him in, that she could end this, but by the time she realized this, she had another choice. In his pride, Gorat believed Crimson to be his slave. He thought if she was famous for creating a new magic, he would reap the benefits of her wealth and influence.

Prison was too good for him or Dio. If Crimson defeated them by having them sent to prison, it wouldn’t be her victory. She wanted to prove that she could take them on single-hoofedly and destroy them. She wanted to have all the power that Gorat wished he had.

Arrest wasn’t even good enough for White Heart, the weakling that allowed him to make sex toys out of her foals and did nothing. The only reason Crimson would leave her alive was despite Gorat.

Crimson only cared about Rym. She considered ending it for her sake, but if Gorat had taught Crimson anything, it was that the purity of an innocent was an acceptable loss. Besides, if Rym had reason to hate Gorat, she’d enjoy his misery more when it came time.

But Crimson would learn to do things she didn’t want. The idea of harming another pony made her sick, but she had to learn to tolerate and even love it if she were to survive.

Crimson awoke on the big day: Rym’s birthday. The day that Crimson now knew they planned to murder and replace her, at least before her bright idea. She woke earlier than her parents or brother due to the sound of Rym crying next to her in their bed. Crimson sighed and pulled her little sister close; they both knew what would happen today.

“I think Dad will make me hurt you,” Crimson sighed. “I won’t apologize; that’d be too much like Dio. Just know I won’t like it as much as I pretend.”

Even as Crimson said it, she feared she would enjoy it every bit as much as she pretended. She’d inherited more from her father than she wished.

“They got me the tinker set I wanted,” Rym sniffled. “I snuck into their closet and saw it.” She would think of that even now; she loved her tinkering.

“I’ll try to leave you in a condition to play with it,” Crimson smirked. “Come on. Let’s get ready early; cooperating can only make it easier on you.”

“I’m glad they’re not killing you at least,” Rym whispered. “You’re the only family member I’d miss.”

Crimson kissed Rym’s forehead, then slipped the covers off of them. She tugged at Rym until she followed her off of the bed.

They got themselves bathed and cleaned up though they didn’t speak much during it. They tied their manes and tails with ties the way Gorat liked. Crimson gave Rym a potion to numb the pain, one she sneaked from Hayscarte’s home, not that it’d do much for this.

When they came downstairs to the kitchen, Gorat had just finished baking and icing their cake. The chocolate cake, the balloons, and the wrapped gifts made it look like any other foal’s birthday party. Only their father’s shaft throbbing beneath him gave away the true nature of it. And maybe the stock of healing potions meant to tighten them up between rapes.

“There’s my pint-sized sluts,” Gorat grinned. “Eager to get Daddy’s cock in that seven-year-old cunt of yours, Rym?”

“Yes,” Rym whispered with tears in her eyes.

Gorat purred as he trotted up to Rym, taking a moment to lick the side of her face and taste her tears before looking down at Crimson. Crimson looked back up at him, doing better than usual to hold in her own tears.

He didn’t like that, grabbing her around her neck and pushing her against the wall. She gagged as he cut her wind off, but tried not to struggle lest he enjoy it more.

“Let me make one thing clear, brat,” Gorat growled. “We were looking forward to seeing you get the life snuffed out today. So you better make letting you live be worth it, both now and later. Understand?”

Crimson nodded and he let her down to catch her breath.

White Heart came in, looking as disheveled as ever, but at least she’d taken a bath today, if by force. She moved to one corner of the room and remained quiet. Dio followed her into the room, sporting a nice pulsing erection already as he sat at the table next to his mother. His dick wasn’t much compared to their father’s, but it was respectable for a twelve-year-old.

“You took long enough,” greeted Gorat as they arrived, motioning for them to take a seat.

Rym took a seat as far from Gorat as she could while Crimson sat next to him.

“Gather round sluts,” Gorat grinned, pulling out a chair and having a seat. “This isn’t just my little Rym’s big day, but also the day Crimson learns to dish it out like she can take it. Or she’ll learn to die, her choice.”

Gorat pointed behind Crimson, and she turned to see a riding crop laying on the kitchen counter. When she turned to look at him again, he pointed at Rym. Rym sniffled as she looked between the two in confusion. Gorat gave her no instructions on what to do, but Crimson had the idea.

“If she fails, we still get to kill her right?” asked Dio in a whisper.

“Don’t worry, she’ll fail,” Gorat chuckled. “If you want to keep your dick warm until then, buck the worthless hole you came from.”

Gorat grabbed hold of White Heart’s head, tugging it to his shaft. She slipped her muzzle over him without question, showing no hint of a gag reflex as he pushed it all the way into her throat. Her neck swelled, if not as much as a foal’s would, and she worked her throat slowing over the shaft.

White Heart felt Dio at her other end, so turned her plot to the side, raising one hind leg to give him access. He grabbed the leg, pulling it close and licking her hoof as he pushed his shaft against his mother’s moist pussy. Dio groaned as he pressed inside, always glad to have a go at his mom. He’d wanted to make a simultaneous child and sibling for a while.

Crimson picked up the crop in her magic, looking at Rym. Rym looked back, eyes glistening with tears and fear on her face, hyperventilating. She looked back at Gorat and saw that snide egotistical grin. He thought he’d have to force Crimson to do this; he looked forward to it even.

Crimson clenched her teeth, took a deep breath to hold in her own tears, and slammed the crop hard against Rym’s face. The stunned filly toppled with a yelp, covering her head with her front hooves to protect herself. Crimson brought it down between her hind legs instead, leaving a red mark across her tiny slit and immature breasts. Rym curled into a fetal position.

“Please Crimmy, no!” Rym begged. She continued to beg, but Crimson forced Rym’s pleas to the back of her mind like background noise.

After whipping her curled up sister several more times, she picked her up with her telekinesis. She grasped her by the head, shaking her until her body uncurled. She turned, bracing herself against the floor and slamming her hind hooves back, nailing Rym between her thighs. As Rym screamed, Crimson lay into her, cunt-punting her like a punching bag one hoof at a time.

“Holy bucking Celestia,” Gorat sat stunned at the foal-on-foal violence, even forgetting to ram White Heart’s face for a moment.

“Whoa that is hot,” Dio stared too, but he didn’t forget to keep ramming his mother’s cunt. He moved faster the more Crimson beat on Rym, the rapid wet slap of their bodies barely audible beneath Rym’s squeals.

When Crimson dropped Rym back onto the floor, her belly and thighs were black and blue from the repeated impacts. She convulsed as soon as she hit the floor and hurled a brief fountain of vomit over her own face.

Crimson didn’t stop. She straddled her little sister’s chest, slamming her head hard against the floor. She scooped up Rym’s vomit with her magic, pushing it back into her muzzle and holding it shut. Rym gagged and swallowed only to hurl again. Crimson kept her muzzle shut, excess squirting out of Rym’s nose. Crimson forced Rym to swallow it until it stayed.

As she did so, Crimson moved the riding crop to Rym’s other end. She saved her pussy for Gorat to break in, lest he kill her for stealing that virginity, and rammed the crop into her tail hole instead. Rym struggled and kicked, but Crimson ignored the impacts and rammed the crop deeper. Soon Rym’s blood painted the crop tip as it invaded her.

Crimson wanted to vomit at first. Once she got into it though, it felt surprisingly good. Even if that wasn’t Rym’s fault she was Crimson’s replacement, it felt incredible to abuse her for it. Crimson realized with shame she was sopping wet with arousal from hurting her sister.

She ground her hips, rubbing her juice against her sister’s bruised breasts. She yanked the crop from her ass, blood splattering across the floor, and brought it to her neck instead. Still holding Rym’s muzzle shut, Crimson pressed the crop down against her neck as hard as she could, cutting her air off.

“Die for me, sis,” Crimson whispered as she leaned close, licking her nose. “Then you can never replace me.”

When Gorat realized that Crimson was trying to murder Rym, he tossed White Heart’s head aside and galloped over to her. Crimson didn’t make out what he said in her excitement, and didn’t stop until she took his hoof to her face, knocking her across the room.

Crimson skidded across the floor and landed against the kitchen counter on the other side of the room, a trail of her liquid arousal smudged across the floor behind her. Her head spun, spitting up blood as her vision refocused. Gorat was forcing a potion down Rym’s throat to cure whatever internal bleeding Crimson might have caused.

“You enjoyed that more than a mare has a right to,” grumbled Gorat as he glared at Crimson.

He’d always been bitter about living in a mare-dominated society. Crimson supposed that’s why he lashed out, but he only underscored the reason it was a mare-dominated world.

“I thought you wanted me to be your little assassin,” Crimson stood again, wiping blood from her muzzle. “What did you expect me to do when you unleash me on my replacement?” Though guilty for having lost herself; she couldn’t let him know that.

“Huh,” Gorat nodded, slow to catch on but understanding her reason. “I guess I need to find somepony you have no reason to hate to train you.”

He was unused to Crimson talking back. She broke in a very different way from her mother.

“I can still kill you,” Gorat warned.

“But you won’t,” Crimson countered, glaring back, but unsure if her terror showed on her face. “If you do, I can’t kill Hayscartes, and you can’t get a share of my royalties when I make his discovery for him.”

“What about after, bitch?” Gorat narrowed his eyes.

“You could kill me I guess,” said Crimson. “But when I patent the spell, they’ll ask who I want to leave royalties to if I die. You don’t know who that’ll be, but I bet you know who it won’t.”

“Then I can make you wish you were dead,” Gorat growled, and that he could.

“Sure,” Crimson stood. “Driving me to suicide shouldn’t cause an issue. We could see which is worse, my fear of death or my fear of years of constant torture.”

“Buck yeah take it like the worthless slut you are, Mom!” Dio’s voice interrupted their moment.

They looked to see Dio clenching his teeth as he hugged White Heart’s leg and slammed his cock into her. She never seemed enthused, but from the look on his face, gave one hell of a dick massage in that experienced milf-hole of hers. Dio groaned and expelled a load into his mother’s womb, once again hoping something came of it.

“Buck this, I’ll deal with you later,” Gorat groaned. “I’m not waiting any longer for that foal’s hole.” He rolled onto his back and splayed out his legs, thick meat pole laying against his belly. “Don’t be gentle. But don’t bucking kill her either.”

Rym shook her head and backed away when Crimson approached her. The potion had cured her outward appearance, but she would feel those bruises for a while. Without a word, Crimson grabbed her sobbing little sister by the head and dragged her to their father.

Crimson hefted her up atop Gorat, the foal’s hind legs spread wide to straddle him, her tiny rump sitting against his meat. It throbbed and Gorat moaned at the squeeze of his daughter’s fresh seven-year-old cunny, hot and pure.

“Get behind her,” panted Gorat. “I want to see suffering on her face. And not see your face at all.”

Crimson did just that, moving between his hind legs. She held his shaft with her magic, then pulled Rym until his tip nestled against her entrance. He wrapped her front legs about Rym and yanked her downward, but for a moment all the tip did was stretch her entrance as it tried to pop inside her.

“It won’t fit,” grunted Rym.

“It stretches, sis,” Crimson said as she jerked Rym harder. “We couldn’t squeeze out foals if it didn’t.”

Rym shrieked as her vulva gave way and stretched over the blunt tip as it forced its way inside her.

Crimson gave no time to adjust before pushing Rym down as far as she could on the first thrust. Though it felt like she was trying to fit a banana through the eye of a needle.

Rym’s belly expanded from the adult girth inside her, body shaking from the jolts of agony pushing through her. The sobbing and writhing, not to mention the tight, moist hole pushed over his shaft, earned a groan from Gorat. He intended to make Crimson do the work, but he couldn’t keep from thrusting upward.

Blood dripped down to the base of Gorat’s shaft as Crimson pulled Rym up and pushed her back down again. She pulled her up and pushed back down using all her might, like hitting an anvil with a hammer. Crimson didn’t stop until she was certain she had rammed him through her sister’s fragile cervix and into her immature womb. The only thing saving Rym from being bucked to death was that Crimson didn’t manage to ram him through her womb’s back wall.

The tiny body was still impaled on a cock as thick as Rym’s leg though. Gorat looked like he enjoyed Rym’s misery as much as her pussy, putting a hoof against her belly to massage the shape of his cock as it impaled her. He moaned, near climax after a few minutes inside the ridiculously tight hole.

Crimson hated to think she took after Gorat, but had to admit this was fun, even arousing. Her cunt honey drooled down her thighs as blood ran down Rym’s. She leaned around and licked the salty tears from Rym’s face. Crimson pitied Rym and hated herself, but that didn’t make it any less hot.

Now that she’d experienced this from the dominant side, she understood why Gorat loved it so much, even if she still hated him for it. The act of forcing her will upon another’s most sacred area, even when she wasn’t the one penetrating her, gave mind-numbing pleasure.

When Gorat blew, Crimson had to hold Rym with hooves and magic to keep her from being pushed off his shaft like a firework. Her belly swelled until the pressure inside pushed the excess sperm out around the tight penetration point, burning at her torn insides.

As soon as the pressure waned, Crimson rammed Rym down upon him again. She didn’t cease until he pushed the both fillies off him. Rym’s gaping cunt spilled so much goo that at first Crimson thought her guts might flow out with it. It healed as Gorat forced another potion down her throat, ready to rip open again next time.

“Crimmy,” Rym looked at Crimson, the pain of rape and betrayal etched on her face. Guilt burned inside Crimson, but all the same, she wasn’t sorry for what she did. That was bucking fun.

“Don’t’ be dramatic, stupid slut,” Gorat smacked Rym on the back of her head. She squealed in fear and cringed. “Oh, all right. You can open your presents and eat cake before me and Dio rape you together.”

Rym’s eyes lit up, and she weakly dragged herself towards the wrapped presents, a trail of bloody goo dribbling behind her.